Journeys into the bright world

Lois. It's a very soft soft foamy feeling. Why is it so hard for me to form my words? (Referring to Howard.) There is someone with you. He's your helper. You work together; you are a team… Without your helper you could not function. You need each other. You are the pilot but he controls the ship.

Marcia. Yes, we fly together like the wings of a single thought.

Lois. I'm still in this foam. It's very very soft… Marcia, were you Nefertiti?

Marcia. I have done some very deep meditations on Nefertiti.

Lois. There is something Egyptian about you. I'm not back to normal yet. It's like I'm gently settling down. I see Helen over there on the right.

Marcia. Come back gently.

Lois. I'm not really here yet. It's like the sofa is molded to my body. It's like it was made for me. It's like when I get up from the sofa my imprint will be here forever.

Marcia. It will. Something of you will remain.

Lois. I didn't want to hurry back. I thought you had appointments.

Marcia. No, there is no one else today.

Lois. That seems so kind. It's like a spaceship and you are my pilot.

Marcia. So now you know how to fly. It's really quite effortless.

Lois. I'm settling down now. It's like something I've never, ever before experienced in my life. At least not in this life.

Marcia. When you're ready we have some tea for you. This is like a prelude of what it will be like when you leave the body for good. (We ended this session with the assurance that we would work together again, and that the next time we would start to look into some more personal issues in Lois' life.)

In a letter and biographical sketch submitted later Lois commented, "I feel very good about samadhi therapy and am willing to try it again. It gave me the valuable knowledge of an out-of-body experience thus raising my consciousness permanently."

This account was submitted by our friend Bill who came, not for therapy but simply in the hope of having a pleasant experience.

Bill

There is always a point (at least for me, when taking a hallucinogenic drug) at which I become slightly uptight. This happens during those first three to seven minutes when the effect begins and you realize that there is no turning back. You've done it, and the substance is starting to rush through your system.

In my first few minutes of "samadhi" I had this feeling, and then I let go. I let myself release. I could hear me telling me to flow with it…let it happen…let it happen.

I remember three things that seemed particularly notable.

First, everything around me seemed textures. The room, even my random thoughts took on this patterned effect. Colors were muted but strong. They seemed to be predominantly earth browns, muted whites and grays.

Second, everything felt like a painting. I was in the painting, but was not the picture itself.

Third, and most important, I am definitely not my body. I could feel the gravitational forces that gave mass to my body. I could look and see it spread before me. But I was not it. Whatever I am is totally separate. If I call this individualizing essence spirit, soul, energy or by any one of various other terms it is still separate unto itself; it is free of the body.

The textured feeling kept growing stronger. I tried to look at Marcia and Howard but couldn't really see them. Rather, I saw pale white thumb-print faces that were part of the same painting that I was in.

There were gaps, blanks during which I wasn't quite sure where I was. Somewhere or nowhere? It was all slightly surrealistic as though I had become a living version of a Dali painting.

The room seemed to have depth not seen before. There were no sharp edges. Everything was peaceful…very very nice. I wondered where I was going. I seemed separate from the body, yet it was there. I could see it.

Light rays were coming from the flame of the candle on the table. Then they were more than rays; they were solid rod-like shapes entering my eyes. It was fascinating to see light-rods that way. They no longer flickered or vanished. Rather, they were solid burnished gold rods that moved through me. I found them enchantingly beautiful. I tried then to focus on my third-dimensional normalcy, but couldn't. This other dimension, or whatever it was that I was in, seemed quite real. Since it was pleasant I decided to flow with it.

The room-the painting that I was in-was full of oriental designs. Shapes remained but they reminded me of a Japanese painting. I allowed myself to ask. How much longer will I be here? Howard came in from somewhere and I heard him talking of time. "How long have I been away?" I wondered. One hour. I couldn't accept his answer. It seemed more like fifteen minutes.

Then they were saying goodnight. I realized I was fading from one reality to another, drifting back and forth. I knew I was slowly coming out but it didn't matter because now I was falling into a new dimension-sleep.